


Verbal Agreements

by relucant



Series: Grammar Games [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Dean, Diners, Fluff, Frottage, Gerunds, Grammar Porn, I apologize for these tags, Infinitives, M/M, Nerd Castiel, Nobody's a Dick, Participles, Pie, Popular Dean, Rimming, Spelling & Grammar, Syntax, Top Castiel, Tutoring, Verbals, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Least I haven't <i>totally</i> forgotten everythin' yet," Dean muttered, and Cas stuck his tongue out again.  "Hey now, keep that tongue in your mouth unless you intend t'use it."</p>
<p>"Oh, I intend to use it," Cas said matter-of-factly, returning his attention to his notebook, but he caught the slight intake of breath, and a smile quirked at his mouth.</p>
<p>"Thought this was supposed to be <i>tutoring</i>, not <i>torturing</i>," Dean grumbled.</p>
<p>"Don't be dramatic," Cas chided, but he leaned over and pulled Dean into a brief kiss, chaste but tender, and somewhere in the back of his mind he marveled at how easy it felt to do that.</p>
<p>Dean let out a displeased whine when he pulled away, and Cas waved his notebook pointedly.</p>
<p>"The sooner we get done with this, the sooner we'll --"</p>
<p>"Be fucking?" Dean supplied hopefully, and Cas groaned.</p>
<p>"I thought you were going to take me to dinner," Cas reminded him.  "You know, make an honest man out of me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Verbal Agreements

**Author's Note:**

> oh my lord this project has gotten out of control. so here, have like 10,000+ words of ridiculous grammar porn.
> 
> much love to [greymichaela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela) and [mittenwraith](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith) for double-checking the grammar for me, and [some_stars](http://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars) for all the late-night commiseration, and my favorite anonymous capybara [KA Graves](http://archiveofourown.org/users/K_A_Graves/pseuds/K%20A%20Graves) for the ongoing brainstorming.
> 
> unedited so far, I am not used to writing things this long and I'm goddamn exhausted so I wanted to get it up. <3 suggestions, comments, etc always welcome!

Despite Dean having dragged Cas into the shower with him in the morning, and then a prolonged makeout session in the Impala after they got to school, Cas half-expected Dean to ignore him on campus. Their paths didn't cross all morning, and sure enough, at lunch Dean walked right by the table where Cas sat alone with his sandwich, engaged in animated conversation with a pretty blonde girl. They sat down at a table with Sam and a few people Cas didn't recognize. Dean threw the girl a wink, and Cas' stomach fell.

_Get over yourself_ , he told himself severely, sinking into his chair. _You knew he wasn't really interested_. He couldn't quite bring himself to regret the night before, but he also couldn't help the humiliation coiling in his stomach or the lump in his throat.

He avoided the cafeteria altogether for the next couple of days, eating his lunch in the library or the dingy courtyard and debating whether to ask for a different tutor for Dean. On Friday, though, he woke up late, dashing out the door without time to even make a sandwich or grab an English muffin. He was supposed to meet with Dean after school for their next session, but they hadn't spoken a word since parting ways.

He considered skipping lunch altogether, but his stomach let out a loud growl, and he sighed.

Trying to blend in with the lunch rush, he grabbed a grilled cheese and some greyish mashed potatoes, and was just about to slip out the door when Sam's voice rang out.

"Cas!" he called, and Cas froze. He debated pretending he hadn't heard, but then Dean's head snapped up at Sam's yell, looking around curiously. His face lit up when he saw Cas, and he waved him over.

"Dude, are you a fuckin' _ghost_ in this school?" he asked, scooting his chair over and pulling over an empty one from another table. "Realized I never even got your number, was about to make Sammy pass you a fuckin' note in class like a ten year old girl."

"Sorry?" he said, sitting down tentatively. "I, uh, usually just read or study somewhere during lunch."

"Ugh, fuck that, man. That's what literally the entire rest of the school day is for." He looked around the table. "You know Sam, obviously, do you know the rest of these nerds?"

"You're in calc with me third period, aren't you?" chirped a redhead sitting next to Sam. "Don't think I've ever heard you talk, though."

"Well, it's calculus," Cas pointed out. "There's not much to talk about. Charlie, right?"

She beamed at him. "And this is Ash," she said, pointing to a lanky mulleted kid next to her. "He runs the hacker -- 'scuse me, _computer science_ club with me. When he feels like showing up.

"Hola, amigo," Ash said affably.

"And I'm Jo," interjected the pretty blonde girl he'd seen before, perched on Dean's other side. She smirked at him, and he flinched slightly, but there was no malice in her voice. "Jesus Christ, thank God you finally turned up. We were about to get Charlie or Ash to hack into your schedule to find you, just so Dean would shut the fuck up already."

Dean groaned. "Is it that weird that I wanted to introduce you assholes to the poor guy who got stuck helpin' me pass English?"

"Good luck with that," Jo and Charlie chimed in unison, and Cas frowned.

"Hey!" Dean objected before Cas could say anything. He reached down, fumbling in his bag, then pulled out slightly crumpled sheet of paper with a flourish. A few red marks dotted the paper, but a large A- was circled at the top in red ink. "Yesterday's quiz says you guys suck."

Sam shook his head, mumbling something that sounded like _I told you so_ , but the rest of the group seemed genuinely impressed.

Charlie caught the scowl on Cas' face. "Not that we think Dean's dumb," she assured him. "Trust me, _Dean's_ the only one who thinks Dean's dumb."

"Hello, I'm right here," he said, waving his hand, and she ignored him.

"But he's the most stubborn dick in the world when he doesn't care."

"I've gathered as much," Cas murmured, poking at his mashed potatoes with a small smile.

"Look, you guys can't even pretend Henriksen makes this shit worth listenin' to," Dean protested. "Cas actually makes it kinda interesting."

"Got nothin' to do with the fact that he's easy on the eyes, huh?" boomed a new voice with a Cajun twang, and Cas jumped, flushing deeply, but Dean just grinned.

"It's a plus," he agreed, wiggling his eyebrows salaciously at Cas, and Cas couldn't help his answering smile. "Cas, Benny. He looks terrifying, but he's a fuckin' teddy bear."

"A _terrifying_ teddy bear." He stuck out a huge hand. "Nice t'meetcha, brother."

"You as well," Cas replied, shaking it.

Jo crunched into her apple. "So Bela's having a party this weekend," she said around the mouthful, then wiped her chin. "Anybody thinking of going?"

"I might," Charlie said thoughtfully, and everyone looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"The great Charlie Bradbury is gonna hang out with the peasants instead of hackin' into corporate bank accounts, or LARPing in that stupid video game of yours?"

"You can't LARP in a video game, Dean," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's called _live-action_. Anyway, um, I heard Gilda saying she might go, so…"

The table erupted in obnoxious catcalls, and she sank into her chair, beet-red but smiling.

"What about you, Dean?" Jo asked. "Is this weekend a Dean Winchester playboy extravaganza weekend or is it a Dean Winchester Star Wars and Mountain Dew weekend?"

Dean shrugged. "Why ruin the surprise? Cas and me got another English session after school, ain't really made plans after that."

"Ooh, you should bring Cas!" Charlie exclaimed. "You're new, right? Have you been to any parties here?"

"I, uh. I've never been to any parties at all," Cas mumbled.

"What?!" Jo looked scandalized.

"I _told_ you guys, he's a sheltered little prep school boy. Does have a pretty hot belly piercing, though."

A beat went by as he realized what he just said, and Cas stared at him in horror. Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then the table dissolved in laughter.

"Not gonna ask, brother," Benny announced, clapping him on the shoulder before wandering off.

" _Anyway_ ," Dean said with a long-suffering sigh, then stood up. "I'll text you dicks later. Cas, you done?"

Cas looked down at the remaining half-sandwich wilting on his plate. "I suppose so." He stood up, emptying his tray into the nearest garbage bin, then turned back. "Um, it was nice to meet you all."

"You too," Charlie and Jo sang together.

"Come hang out anytime at lunch, dude," Ash added, tilting his chair back. "Dean's right, lunch break ain't no time for a man to be studying."

Cas nodded, waving awkwardly, then followed Dean away. 

He caught Charlie's voice drifting quietly behind him. "-- _kinda dreamy_ ," she was saying, and he blushed again.

"Well, that was kind of horrific," Dean said. "Sorry 'bout that."

"I like them," Cas said with thinly-veiled surprise. "I didn't -- I didn't expect them to be like that."

"Like what?" Dean asked, cocking his head.

"I don't know. Nice. Friendly."

"You thought my friends'd be assholes? I mean, they _are_ assholes, but you know what I mean."

"I didn't know you a week ago," Cas reminded him. "All I knew was that you were this hot popular guy, and that generally comes with some stigma."

"You think I'm hot?" Dean asked with a wink, and Cas shoved at him with his shoulder. He dodged, laughing. "I don't think I'm popular, dude. I just don't care about this social hierarchy bullshit, and I got lucky enough to find friends who don't either. And Ash is right, you should eat lunch with us. The fuck you eat alone for, anyway? You know I ain't hard to find."

Cas ducked his head, shrugging, and Dean eyed him.

"Were you… avoiding me?" he said slowly. Cas bit his lip, and a hurt expression fell into Dean's eyes. "But… why? I thought you… I thought you were okay with everything…"

"I was," Cas said quickly, then amended, "I _am_. It's -- it's dumb."'

" _What's_ dumb?"

Cas sighed, rubbing his forehead. "That day -- the next day, in the cafeteria. I saw you, and you were talking to Jo, and it looked like -- I thought you were --"

Dean stared at him for a second, then threw back his head and laughed.

"Shut up," Cas muttered, pulling his hoodie tighter and hunching his shoulders.

"No, no," Dean said, still snickering. "Believe me, dude, you ain't the first one to think me and Jo got a thing. But she's the closest thing I got to a sister -- and Ellen, her mom, she's the closest thing to a mom I ever really had. Jo and I made out once behind Ellen's bar and couldn't look each other in the eye for a month."

Cas snorted, then sighed. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I shouldn't've assumed -- you know --"

"That I'm a total dickwad?" Dean returned. "After I _told_ you I'm not? No, you shouldn't've."

Cas flinched, but Dean just reached over and tugged at his hair. "Dude, I get it. Ain't easy bein' the new kid. Sammy an' I bounced between here and everywhere for years 'til my dad finally settled down. And even still he's barely here. Gotta be even harder comin' from your background."

"Maybe, but I shouldn't have judged you, or your friends."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ugh, you're so serious. It's cool. So… y'wanna come back to my house again after school, instead of the library? Sammy's doing nerd AP shit with Kevin Tran, so…"

Cas raised a dubious eyebrow, and Dean held up his hands. "Dude, we'll study, I swear." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look. Gettin' an A in a class I've been borderline failing for months, it felt nice, okay? Makes me think I could even --"

He cut himself off, turning away. Cas touched his elbow. "Go to college?"

"Maybe," Dean muttered. "Anyway. Meet me out front after school?"

"Okay," Cas agreed. He smiled at Dean, and to his shock Dean leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Just wanted to see you blush again," he teased, then disappeared down the corridor. Cas shook his head, but a pleasant warmth had replaced the sour twist in his stomach as he sat down in the back of his physics class.

Finally, after stopping by his dingy locker after his last class, Cas made his way through the throngs barreling through the front doors. He scanned the sea of students, still mostly unfamiliar faces, until he found Sam standing next to a skinny Asian boy, rolling his eyes at what appeared to be a lecture from Dean.

He made his way over to them in time to hear Sam say, "-- _met_ Mrs. Tran, at the last parent-teacher evening, remember?"

Dean paused, thinking for a second. "She the one who got up and demanded why advanced music classes ain't offered here?"

"That's her," the other kid sighed. "She's signed me up for private lessons after school so my GPA won't be affected by a non-AP class."

"Huh," Dean said. "I liked her. Hey, Cas!"

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, shifting. "Sam. And…"

"This is Kevin," Sam supplied. "He's in Advanced Placement."

"It's nice to meet you, Kevin," Cas said, offering his hand.

Kevin took it eagerly. "Sam said you went to prep school," he said. "Does that mean you went to an _actual_ prep school?"

"Navy blazers and neckties and all," Cas said, laughing.

Dean eyed Cas up and down with a thoughtful smirk, and Sam groaned.

"Dude. Don't be gross. Anyway, Mrs. Tran is here. Can we go study our Latin or do you need to go all FBI on her first?"

"As long as you promise to stay up too late drinking soda and playin' video games like fuckin' _normal_ kids. Bad enough that you guys are takin' Latin on _purpose_ , but on a Friday night?" He shook his head with a resigned sigh. "Have fun, nerds." They piled into the minivan idling nearby, and Mrs. Tran waved from the window.

"Aren't _you_ doing 'nerd shit' on a Friday night as well?" Cas asked as they drove off.

"Yeah, but they don't need to know that. Gotta look to my rep an' all." Dean winked. Cas rolled his eyes, following him to the Impala.

"Ahh, freedom," Dean said, sliding into the driver's seat with a contented sigh. "You got anywhere you need to be? Thought maybe once we got this studyin' bullshit over with, I'd take you on that dinner I promised before you seduced me."

" _I_ seduced --"

"Mm-hmm," Dean interrupted. He put a hand to his forehead. "Those pretty eyes and sex-god voice, I was helpless to resist. Should be ashamed of yourself."

"I apologize for starting you on the path to ruin," Cas agreed. "Hopefully a passing grade in English will make up for my deviousness."

Dean grinned at him, turning the car on and revving the engine. "It's a start. Toss me that cassette, wouldja?" He shoved the cassette in, and then AC/DC started blasting as they pulled out of the parking lot. The Georgia sky shone blue through the open windows, and Cas leaned back on the sun-warmed leather.

"Is your father --?" Cas began, then shut up as Dean's face hardened, but he just sighed with a shrug.

"Nah, still not here. Was supposed to be back this weekend, but still out in Missouri. Sucked when we were younger, but me and Sammy, we're okay now."

"But don't you have anyone who -- I'm sorry, it's not my business." He expected Dean to change the subject, and Dean was silent for a minute, but then he shook himself. 

"We got Ellen -- Jo's mom -- I'll take you to the Roadhouse sometime, she makes the best burgers in the state. And Bobby, he's more a dad than ours ever was." He caught Cas staring at him, tilting his head. "What?"

"You really take care of him, don't you? Sam?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, somebody's gotta."

Cas paused, chewing on his lip. "You know," he finally said, "you could probably go for your Associate's in engineering here in town, at the community college. Or online, even."

Dean's face twisted. "Cas, I appreciate it, but --"

"The cost is fairly minimal, at the community college level," Cas barreled on. "And if you decided to go further, you could likely get scholarships then -- and, after two years, maybe three if you're working… you and Sam would be ready at around the same time…"

"Cas, I appreciate the sentiment, but my old man's made it clear I'm only good for workin' with my hands, okay?"

Cas' nostrils flared. "If _you_ decide that's what you want, that's fine," he snapped. "Don't tell me what your absent father thinks you're good for."

Dean's face went stone-still, grip tightening on the steering wheel, and Cas flinched.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That wasn't -- it's not my business. I shouldn't have said that."

Dean stared straight ahead, then finally relaxed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, it ain't your business. But maybe you ain't wrong." He sighed again. "Anyway, let's worry 'bout me passin' English for the moment, 'kay?"

"Okay," Cas agreed readily. "And congratulations on your English quiz grade."

Dean snorted, ducking his head. "Just 'cause of you anyway."

"I didn't take the quiz," Cas pointed out. "You took the quiz."

"Yeah, okay. Do I get a reward then for bein' such a good little student?"

"We'll see," Cas murmured, and when he glanced up he saw Dean's eyes dilate slightly. "What are you working on now?"

"Verbals." Dean pulled into his driveway and shut off the car with a grimace. "Which Henriksen helpfully told us are, I think, 'words derived from verbs''. Aren't those, I dunno, just fuckin' _verbs_?"

Cas groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Verbals aren't my favorite," he admitted.

"Oh God," Dean said in faint horror. "If _you_ don't like 'em, there's no hope for me." He fished his backpack out of the back seat and opened his door, and Cas followed suit.

"They're not _that_ bad." He hip-checked his door shut, slinging his bag on his shoulder. "Infinitives are very simple. Gerunds and participles can be confusing, but --"

"Whoa there, professor-boy," Dean interrupted. "I have no idea what you're saying right now, so let's begin at the beginning. _After_ we're inside." He got the door unlocked and threw his bag on the couch. "Wanna work down here, since we got the place to ourselves? Or -- actually, we got a porch out back. Nothin' fancy but the couch is decent, little less stuffy than in here."

"That sounds nice." Cas toed off his shoes and socks in the hallway, following Dean to a battered back door.

"Make yourself at home," Dean declared, throwing it open. "I gotta piss, an' I'll bring some sodas and snacks and shit out." The door banged shut, and Cas looked around.

The backyard was as overgrown as the front yard, raggedy grass growing several inches high, but a scattering of tall, leafy trees arched over the yard, and evidence of gardens ringed the edge, chaotic flowers peeking up over the weeds.

"It's gross, I know," Dean said, kicking open the door with his bag on one arm and balancing a tray of popcorn and sodas on the other.

"I like it," Cas affirmed.

"You like it? Dude, looks like a fuckin' empty field back here."

"Kind of." Cas sniffed the air. "It's better than all the stupid hedges at my old school, or my mother's perfect gardens that she's never touched herself."

"Huh." Dean set the snacks on the old wooden table, then flung himself down next to Cas. "Okay. So. The fuck is this shit?"

Cas sighed, sitting up. "Verbals… suck, I admit. But there are only three main categories, and of those, infinitives are fairly simple. They're the…"

"Basic version? Like, to speak. _Hablar_ and shit, right?" Dean supplied, and Cas raised his eyebrows. "What, I did have to take Spanish in middle school, even if I can't speak shit past _No hablo español_ and _azul_."

Cas groaned, pressing his face into his knees, and Dean drew back. "Sorry, I didn't mean that I -- I know I don't --"

"No," Cas interrupted. "You're exactly right. _Hablar_ is the infinitive of _to speak_ , in Spanish. Most people wouldn't make that connection immediately, you know."

"But it's the same thing," Dean said, confusedly.

"It is." Cas opened up his notebook. "So how do you recognize infinitives in English?"

"Uh -- _to_ , right? To, you know… run? To skip, to sing?"

"Yes," Cas acknowledged. "There are a few exceptions, but that's the infinitive, for the most part. Can you give me a sentence using one?"

"Um… I like to sleep?"

"And what part of speech does it function as?"

Dean blinked at him. "It's a fuckin' verb, isn't it? Like, isn't it the _definition_ of a verb?"

Cas shook his head. "In its infinitive form, it actually doesn't function as a verb at all. Think about it: you can conjugate _sleep_ \-- I sleep, we slept --" He paused, blushing slightly again and ignoring Dean's smirk. "But can you conjugate _to sleep_?"

Dean turned this over, chewing on his lip. "I guess not. But then what would…?"

"Think about something else that you like. Pie."

"Well, pie's a noun, obviously. Are you tellin me' _to sleep_ is a noun?"

"It functions as one in this context, yes, as the direct object."

"Huh. What about, like… 'to sleep with you is awesome'?"

"You're incorrigible," Cas sighed, hiding a grin. "But yes, as the subject, it's a noun there as well."

"Huh," Dean said again. "All right, s'a little weird, but I can see that. So are they always nouns?" Cas shook his head, and Dean groaned. "'Course not. That'd be too easy. The hell else are they? If you start telling me _to the store_ or some shit is a verbal, I'm so done."

Cas laughed. " _To_ is still safely a preposition in that context. But… say you got a book from the library. What's the book for?"

"For pickin' up hot nerds like you?" Dean returned, and Cas stuck out his tongue. "Uh, it's for reading. To read, I guess?"

"Mm-hmm. And what does _to read_ modify?"

"The book…?" Dean ventured. "So it's… an adjective?"

"You really pick up on this quite easily, you know," Cas said.

"Yeah, well, you… pick up on _me_ quite easily," Dean mumbled. "Okay, so if it can be an adjective, can it be an adverb too?"

"It can. Think of it in terms of, like… _why_ would you do something? Like… why are you studying?"

"Because my tutor's got sex hair and a mouth that --"

" _Dean_..."

"Well, it's _true_. Fine, fine. Uh-h… I'm studying… to pass English?"

"So _to pass English_ modifies…?" 

"To study. I'm studying, I mean. Like an adverb."

"Like an adverb," Cas affirmed.

"Christ. So basically the verb is a noun or adjective or adverb but not a verb?"

"The _infinitive form_ of a verb doesn't _function_ as a verb," Cas said.

"Yeah, thanks for clearin' _that_ up," Dean grumbled. "And you said infinitives are the _simplest_ kind?"

"Gerunds and participles are slightly more complicated," Cas admitted.

"Oh good," Dean said, settling back against the couch. "I like complications."

"You do not," Cas informed him, smiling. "Nobody does."

"Yeah, yeah. All right, hit me."

"Give me a moment to think. I don't want to give you a bad explanation." He grabbed a handful of popcorn and crunched thoughtfully, staring out over the yard. The sun had begun sinking lower in the sky, tinging the clouds with orange. When he glanced over, Dean was studying his notes intently, the late-afternoon light playing over his features, and Cas couldn't help admiring the highlights and shadows.

"Like what you see?" Dean finally said without looking up, and Cas jumped and blushed.

"I think we've established that," he mumbled. "Anyway. Participles and gerunds aren't really confusing in and of themselves," Cas said. "But they're easily mixed up, as both the gerund and the present participle always end in _-ing_."

"Hold on, you mentioned participles last time, right? In the passive voice?"

Cas beamed at him. "You got it," he affirmed, nudging his shoulder. "That's one of its uses, when it functions as a verb."

" _When_ it --?"

"Participles can function as verbs or adjectives. When a verbal functions as a noun, it's a gerund."

"It's fuckin' bullshit, is what it is."

"Blame Latin, not me."

"Can I smack Sammy with his Latin textbook instead?"

Cas snorted. "Those things are huge, you could give him a concussion."

"Probably wouldn't be the first time," Dean said cheerfully.

" _Anyway_. Yes, the passive voice is constructed using the copula -- that is, the verb _to be_ \-- and the past participle of the main verb. Do you remember how that's formed?"

Dean screwed up his eyes. "I cook burgers. Burgers are cooked by me. The, uh -- the simple past, right? But there was something weird about it…"

"Think about the sentence 'I do my homework'. How would you put it in simple past?"

"I did my homework." He paused, and Cas resolutely ignored the tapping of his pen against his lower lip. "But 'my homework was did by me' is fuckin' stupid. This that shit you said to -- what's the word -- _intuit_?"

"Mm-hmm. It can trip you up, but ninety percent of the time you'll know what sounds correct."

"So _done_? Is the participle?"

"It is."

"Least I haven't _totally_ forgotten everythin' yet."

"From what I can see, you haven't forgotten much of anything. Remember, you're learning what I was taught relentlessly for years in a matter of weeks. You're absorbing it very well."

"Yeah, well… I'll… absorb _you_ very well," he muttered, and Cas stuck his tongue out again. "Hey now, keep that tongue in your mouth unless you intend t'use it."

"Oh, I intend to use it," Cas said matter-of-factly, returning his attention to his notebook, but he caught the slight intake of breath, and a smile quirked at his mouth.

"Thought this was supposed to be _tutoring_ , not _torturing_ ," Dean grumbled.

"Don't be dramatic," Cas chided, but he leaned over and pulled Dean into a brief kiss, chaste but tender, and somewhere in the back of his mind he marveled at how easy it felt to do that.

Dean let out a displeased whine when he pulled away, and Cas waved his notebook pointedly.

"The sooner we get done with this, the sooner we'll --"

"Be fucking?" Dean supplied hopefully, and Cas groaned.

"I thought you were going to take me to dinner," Cas reminded him. "You know, make an honest man out of me."

Dean sighed. "So demanding. Okay, I think I got the passive. What terribleness do we have left?"

"Participles are also used in forming perfect and progressive tenses. Do you remember what those are?"

"Uh, progressive is the easy one, right? I'm walking, was walking, will be walking?"

"Yes. The syntactic construction of the verb phrase is a conjugated auxiliary verb -- for progressive, _to be_ \-- and the present participle of the main verb."

Dean tilted his head, the late afternoon sunlight shining gold in his hair. "I understand all those words by themselves," he said slowly, "but 'm not sure I get what they mean together."

"Think of the sentence 'I am walking'. What's the auxiliary?"

"Well, _am_ , right? In present, 'cause it's present progressive? So then _walking_ is a participle."

"Mm-hmm. And so past and future progressive?"

"Um -- auxiliary would be _was_ and -- and _will be_? And the participle is always _walking_?"

"See? That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

Dean frowned, staring at his notes. "But -- okay, but I already _knew_ this, right? From last week? How to construct progressive tense?"

"You knew how to construct it, and now you know its syntactic components."

"I think I'm developing a fetish for the way you say the word _syntactic_ ," Dean informed him.

Cas blushed, then gave him a shy smirk. "So if I told you I want to climb you like a syntactic tree…"

Dean choked slightly on his soda, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Jesus. Thought you were tryin' to get through this lesson, not make me wanna jump your bones even _more_."

"It's not my fault," Cas returned. "You're even more attractive in this light."

Dean blushed, for a change, highlighting his scattering of freckles. "Yeah, well," he mumbled. "Pot, kettle, black. Are we _done_ yet?"

"Getting there," Cas assured him. "Are you good on progressive?"

"Think so. Uh -- is, was, will be, plus _-ing_ present participle?"

"Exactly. Perfect is very similar, only with _to have_ instead of _to be_ , and the past participle instead of the present. Can you work out the syntax of the present perfect?"

Dean rubbed his chin, squinting at his notebook. "It'd be _I have walked_ , right? With the auxiliary _have_ in the present, and _walked_ is the past participle?" Cas nodded, and Dean fiddled with his pen. "Okay, so past perfect -- the auxiliary would be in the past, yeah? With the same participle -- _had_ walked? And then -- _will have_ walked?"

Cas looked at him consideringly. "Dean, I'm truly not flattering you, but you pick this up astonishingly well."

"If that ain't flattery, I don't wanna know what _is_ ," Dean mumbled.

Cas grinned at him. " _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day_?" he began, clasping his hands in front of him. Dean shoved him with his shoulder, and Cas toppled backwards with a squawk.

"Fuckin' nerd," Dean avowed. " _Now_ are we done?"

"Not quite," Cas said, sitting up. "But we're through the worst, I promise. The only other aspect of participles is their function as adjectives."

"A verb as an adjective?"

"A _verbal_ that _functions_ as an adjective," Cas reiterated. "Can you think of an example? Both present and past participles work in this way."

Dean bit his lip. "No," he finally admitted, sheepishly. "Sorry, I --"

"Don't be sorry," Cas said. "Think of a verb, like… _to cry_. Can you use its present participle form as an adjective in a sentence?"

Dean looked at him blankly for a moment. "Uh -- present is _-ing_ , right? So crying?" 

Cas nodded encouragingly. "And how might that modify a noun? Remember, adjectives answer the question _what_ or _which_ "

"So… it would modify, like -- like a crying baby? Which baby? -- the crying baby?"

"Exactly."

"A… a jumping frog? A swimming pool? A -- an annoying class?"

"But a charming -- and aggravating -- student."

"And a rather tempting teacher," Dean retorted. "Okay, but those are all present participles, right? What about past?"

Cas hummed. "Well, if you are an _aggravating_ student, what does that make me?"

"I can think of a lot of things," Dean said with a smirk. "But, uh…" He paused in thought. "A-aggravated?"

"Among other things," Cas agreed. "But yes. A depressed person might have depressing news. An enchanting story is set in an enchanted forest."

"Huh." Dean turned this over in his head for a moment. "Okay, so like -- all that makes sense, I think, or it all sounds right, but is there, like… a specific difference in how they're used? Present and past participles? Or do you just gotta, y'know, _intuit_ what's right?"

Cas scratched his temple. "Participial adjectives generally stem from emotive verbs -- relating to feelings or emotions. You could think of it in terms of present participles referring to the _cause_ of the feeling, while the past participle describes the recipient of the feeling, or the experiencer."

"So like… the homework is boring, but I am bored by it?" Dean paused again, frowning thoughtfully. "Are those even adjectives?"

"Yes," Cas assured him. "If you were to say 'the boring homework is boring', _boring_ would be a present participial adjective in both cases."

"Because the homework is what's causin' the boring...ness. And I'm experiencing it, so this bored guy is bored… by the boring homework."

"Essentially, yes."

"Well, shit," Dean said wonderingly. "That kinda makes sense." He looked down at his notebook again. "So that's why the passive voice takes the past participle then? Like -- recipient of the action in passive, and recipient of the feeling?"

Cas blinked at him in surprise, and Dean backtracked immediately.

"No -- that's dumb, I --"

"I've never even thought of that," Cas said slowly. "But I think you're right. I forgot the homework, but the _forgotten_ homework _was forgotten_ by me. That makes perfect sense." He smiled at Dean. "I guess prep school doesn't teach you everything."

Dean blushed again, but a pleased smile curved on his lips. "Okay, whatever. Are we done _now_?"

"We're done with participles," Cas said, and Dean let out a relieved sigh. "We just have gerunds left, and then we're done."

"Oh good," Dean said. "And I bet those can be verbs and prepositions and fuckin' adverbs but only on Tuesdays or some shit, right?"

" _Actually_ , gerunds are only and always nouns," Cas informed him. "They can occur in any part of the sentence that a noun might, but they're always nouns."

"So like… a subject, to start out?"

"Mm-hmm. You might think of them in terms of, like, the activity or action of a verb. Can you think of a gerund subject?"

"You said they're always _-ing_ , right? So, uh… _studying_ fuckin' sucks? The activity of studying sucks?"

Cas snorted. "Grammatically correct, so I won't argue. What about direct object?"

"Uhh… that's like -- okay, you could say _I like cars_ , so would it be… _I like driving_?"

"It would," Cas affirmed, a smile blossoming on his face. "And indirect object?"

"I'm not sure what that is," Dean admitted.

"Um. If the direct object receives the action of the verb -- _I like studying_ \-- then an indirect object would, well, indirectly receive the action. Like… _I give studying my attention_."

"Huh," Dean said. "'Cause you're not _giving studying_ , you're giving _your attention_... _to_ studying?"

"Right," Cas said with a laugh. "Jesus, I'm confusing myself now. Okay, can you tell me the grammatical difference between _giving studying your attention_ and _giving your attention to study_?"

"Can tell you I'd rather be givin' _you_ my attention," Dean grumbled.

"We're almost done," Cas assured him.

"You said that, like, _hours_ ago," Dean whined.

"Dean, hours ago we were still in school."

"Yeah, well. Maybe sittin' here next to you and tryin' to concentrate on fuckin' English makes time go by at a fuckin' crawl."

"I am confident you'll survive," Cas said. "This is the last bit, I promise."

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fi-ine. Uh -- _giving studying my attention_ an' _giving my attention to studyin'_ , right? Uh-h… well, _attention_ is the, uh, the direct object in both, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, well… in the first one, _studying_ would be receiving my attention, so it'd be an… indirect object?"

"Indeed," Cas said, giving Dean a bright smile. "And the other?"

"Umm…" He stared at his notebook, tapping his pen.

"Think back to our first lesson," Cas prompted.

"Oh, I do," Dean said with a salacious wink. "B'lieve me, I do."

" _Dean_."

"Ugh, you're no fun."

"Oh no?" Cas returned, arching an eyebrow, and Dean swallowed.

"You're evil, you know that?" he informed Cas. "Okay, okay. That was, uh, prepositions, yeah? So… _to_ is a preposition? But then… I don't know what _studying_ would be called."

"It's called the object of a preposition," Cas said. " _To studying_ is a preposition phrase, comprised of a preposition and its object."

"Christ. Subject, direct object, indirect object, object of a preposition. The fuck named this shit?"

"I don't know, but you can probably safely continue to blame the Romans."

"Christ," Dean said again. "Fuckin' Nero had the right idea." Cas blinked at him, but before he could comment, Dean continued, rubbing his temples. "All right. So gerunds are nouns, ending in _-ing_. Infinites are… nouns, adjectives and adverbs, with _to_. Participles are… fuck."

"The worst, yes," Cas agreed.

"No fucking joke. Okay, they're, uh… verbs, when used with a -- an aux… auxiliary verb To make progressive and perfect?" Cas nodded encouragingly. "And, uh… adjectives. The crying baby."

"Mm-hmm. One other use."

Dean thought for a moment, biting his lip, then broke into a grin. "For the passive voice. Or like I said before, the _submissive_ voice. You'd think I'd've remembered that."

"Well, you can refresh your memory with that all you like," Cas said, and Dean groaned.

"Are we done? We better be done or I might die over here."

"I have faith in your constitution. But yes, we're done. Dean, you really seem to grasp this quite well."

"Maybe I just have good motivation," Dean retorted. "Plus God knows I'll need to review this shit like twelve times, probably. But… yeah, man, don't feel like I'm gonna be walkin' in there blind on Monday. Thanks, dude."

"You're quite welcome. And thank you, too."

"Me? For what?"

"For being a much more enjoyable student than I could have hoped for." Dean smirked and opened his mouth, but Cas cut him off. "And I mean that. Not to say I don't enjoy our, uh, extracurriculars as well, but you're receptive and insightful and far more clever than you give yourself credit for."

"Yeah, okay, okay," Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Now can I kiss you already?"

Cas smiled at him. "Yes, please."

"Finally," Dean breathed. He turned his head, bringing a hand to Cas' jaw to pull him closer, just sliding their lips together until Cas made a small whining sound, trying to deepen the kiss. "Oh, who's needy now?"

"Believe me, it's not easy for me to sit next to you studying like good little children either," Cas murmured against his mouth. "I just have more discipline."

"Mm…" Dean nipped at his lower lip. "Guess you should probably teach me some discipline."

Cas groaned, and without breaking apart them they shifted until sitting face to face, legs wrapped around each other. The sun slipped lower, leaving the clouds pink and yellow in its wake, and the hum of the locusts picked up in the trees.

They kissed lazily in the waning light, slow tongues and exploratory hands, ignoring the growing chill and the smell of rain in the air. Shirts had just begun to be tugged aside when a crash of thunder boomed overhead, and they barely got a glimpse at the suddenly tubercular sky before it opened up over their heads.

"Fuck!" Dean squawked, fumbling for their books. "Fucking Georgia, I swear to fucking God --"

"Bit of a mood-killer," Cas gasped. He grabbed his laptop bag and notebook and ducked inside, followed closely by Dean.

"Mother Nature's a cockblock," Dean grumbled, running his hand through dripping hair. "Was 'bout to ravish you on that couch."

"I'm sure Sam would be glad you didn't." Cas plucked at his damp t-shirt, making a face. He looked up, catching Dean's eye, and they both burst out laughing.

"Not gonna lie," Dean finally said, "I kinda just wanna get rid of all these wet clothes and go from there. But uh… I'm also kinda hungry."

As if on cue, Cas' stomach let out a loud growl, and they dissolved into laughter again.

"Okay then," Dean said, thumbing at his eyes. "Dinner it is. Toldja I'm takin' you out, so you got any requests?"

"Um -- I haven't really been anywhere," Cas admitted.

"What, gotta live-in cook or some shit?"

"We're not exactly Rockefellers, Dean," Cas said. "I admit, my mother might have considered it had we all grown up there. But my family isn't rich enough to hire a cook for two adults and one child without reason. And now…" He trailed off, and Dean reached for his hand. "She tries. She and my father both. They try to do a… a family meal at least once a week. I suppose it's a nice gesture. Otherwise Gabriel brings home experiments from his culinary classes, or… well, there's always bread."

"Huh," Dean said. "Here I thought you'd be eatin' seven-course meals every night." Cas rolled his eyes. "Okay, so… I'd take you to the Roadhouse, but. First place, Jo's on shift, and after this afternoon, she'd be fuckin' insufferable. And, well. S'technically a bar. Ellen puts up with me and Sammy comin' in, but she really don't like it on Friday and Saturday nights. You like diner food?"

Cas' stomach grumbled again. "I love diner food. We'd always eat in diners when we snuck out into town. It was wonderful."

"The Silver Skillet it is," Dean declared. He stood up, tugging at his shirt and making a face. "You want to borrow clothes?"

"Please," Cas admitted. "My jeans are fairly dry, but my shirt got a bit drenched."

"Kay." Dean disappeared up the stairs for a moment, then clattered back down, tossing Cas a soft grey t-shirt. He knelt down in a closet, coming up with a battered umbrella, then ushered Cas out the door.

They ducked out to the car and drove the short distance to the diner. Inside, Cas looked around as Dean shook out the umbrella.

"I know I've never been here, but this looks oddly familiar. What…?"

Dean puffed out his chest, grinning at Cas. "It's a local hangout, but it's kind of famous," he confided. "Been on Guy Fieri and all, and some big-shot movies. And --"

"Ahoy, brother!" called a voice from the back, and Dean flinched.

"And Benny," he admitted.

Cas shrank back, but Benny came out smiling. "So 'm I responsible for your first date meal?" he asked, teasing without malice.

"Well, I already cooked him burgers," Dean said, and Benny grinned. 

"So you know the way to a man's heart, then." He led them to a small corner booth and they slid inside, knees knocking together. "Can I get y'all somethin' to drink?"

"Just Coke for me," Dean said, plucking a menu from the condiment stand.

"Uh, coffee, please."

"Cream, sugar?"

"Both, thank you."

"You got it." He disappeared, and Cas picked up the other menu.

"Do all of your friends work in restaurants?" he asked curiously, turning the menu over in his hands.

"Nah, just Benny and Jo," Dean said. "But Benny's been one of my best friends forever, an' like I said Jo's basically a sister, so I usually go either here or the Roadhouse."

"Makes sense. So what's good here?"

"The pie," Dean said immediately. "But everything, man. You a fan of breakfast-for-dinner? Or that too pedestrian for you prep school boys?" He gave Cas a teasing wink.

Cas rolled his eyes. "One of my dorm-mates had an illicit waffle maker in his room. He dealt a steady business in late-night black market waffles."

"That's right, I forgot y'all were little rebels."

"Criminals, all of us," Cas agreed.

At that moment Benny appeared, depositing their drinks in front of them along with two glasses of water. "You guys ready to order?"

"Sure thing. Cas?"

"Uh-h… I'll have the Super Skillet omelette, please."

"Good man. Grits, gravy on toast, or biscuits?"

"I -- I've never had grits, nor toast with gravy…"

"Grits are fuckin' foul," Dean interjected, and Benny swatted at him.

"Someday I'll make you my creole shrimp and grits. Be singin' a different tune." He turned back to Cas. "They are kind of an acquired taste," he admitted. "How 'bout I bring you some plain toast an' gravy on the side? Got plenty o' jelly here if you don't like it."

"That sounds perfect," Cas said with a smile.

"Dean, lemme guess -- pancakes, strawberries on top and bacon on the side, extra syrup."

"You know me so well," Dean proclaimed, a hand to his heart.

"Unfortunately," Benny acknowledged. He grabbed their menus and wedged them back between the ketchup and mustard bottles. "Have that out to y'all right quick."

"He's nice," Cas said, looking after him.

"Oh, he's a total dick," Dean said affably. "Nicest guy you'll ever meet, though." He unwrapped a straw and stuck it in his soda, slurping noisily, then wiped his mouth. "So, uh. I feel a little guilty."

Cas cocked his head. "For… what?"

"Well, I mean. Our studyin' is supposed to be for an hour, twice a week. Pretty sure we about quadrupled that this week so far."

Cas stared at him curiously. "You think I mind?"

"Well -- no, not exactly, but like -- seems like you're doin' a lot more'n you're gettin' paid for."

"Oh, I don't get paid for tutoring," Cas said absently, tearing open a sugar packet.

"Wait, what? You're just doin' it for kicks or some shit?"

Cas sighed. "My guidance counselor suggested it. Since my English classes had already surpassed those offered here, she said if I took on someone to tutor I could have that for a free period, or an elective."

Dean bristled. "So, what, I'm like a charity case?"

Cas rolled his eyes, reaching out hesitantly to link their index fingers. "Dean, even worst-case scenario, I wouldn't have minded. Believe it or not, I'm not actually some English genius; I've just been taught differently. The review is beneficial to me as well. And you are definitely not a worst-case scenario."

"Hmph," Dean mumbled, fiddling with his straw. "Just feel like you're wastin' your time with me."

Cas stared at him in disbelief. "Dean." He nudged Dean's ankle under the table until Dean looked up at him. "I -- you _have_ to know I like you, right? And you make me feel like -- like I kind of belong, for the first time. And --" Cas blushed, biting his lip. "I was sort of expecting some Neanderthal, like Gordon Walker or someone. You're so smart, you understand what I'm talking about… It makes me feel like I'm actually doing something worthwhile." He sipped at his coffee. "And I would probably watch paint dry with you, if you must know," he mumbled, staring into his mug.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes wide and surprised, but before he could say anything Benny reappeared at their table.

"Omelette, toast, gravy on the side," he announced, plunking several plates down in front of Cas. "And a heart attack waiting to happen for Dean over here."

"Shut it," Dean informed him. He immediately dug into his stack of pancakes, shoving them into his mouth with a moan. When he looked up, Cas was staring at him, a forkful of omelette halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"Uh -- nothing." Cas nibbled at the omelette, then cut off a corner of toast, spooning at the small bowl of gravy, sniffing at it tentatively. He licked at the spoon, and a pleased expression spread across his face. "This is delicious."

"Toldja," Dean said smugly. He stabbed at his plate, swiping a pancake in the pools of syrup, and held it out. Cas raised an eyebrow, but opened his mouth, drawing the pancakes off the fork with a groan.

"Should be illegal," he said, licking syrup off the fork tines. He tried to assemble a neat bite on his own fork, winding up with a giant mound of omelette and toast and dripping gravy. He eyed it dubiously, but Dean just grinned.

"Hit me," Dean declared, opening his mouth and closing his eyes. Cas hesitated, but he carefully deposited the forkful into Dean's mouth, and Dean let out a contented sigh.

"You guys are disgusting," Benny announced loudly, grinning, and they jumped. "Gonna give Mrs. Berry over there the wrong idea."

"I don't mind," cackled a voice from the other side of the diner, and Cas blushed, but Dean just laughed.

"Uh-huh. If I recall you offered me an extra dollar if I'd mow your lawn shirtless last summer, Mrs. B," he called out.

"I'm old, not blind," she returned, and Dean snorted.

"Sorry, y'all," Benny offered. "Perils of a local diner."

"It's kind of nice," Cas said. "The diners I used to go to, we tried not to be recognized. And this is delicious."

"Damn right," Benny said. "Make it all m'self."

"S'terrible," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of bacon and pancakes. "Want m'money back."

"Not a chance." Benny refilled their water glasses and wandered off.

Finally Dean swallowed the last piece of bacon and dropped his fork with a clatter. Cas took another valiant bite of his omelette, then pushed his plate away.

"I can't do it," he mourned. "If I eat another bite I might rupture something."

"Well, hope you have health insurance, 'cause we ain't leavin' here without pie."

"You can't be serious."

"Do I look like a man who'd joke about pie?" Dean said in mock offense, and Cas groaned, clutching his stomach. "You don't have to finish it," Dean assured him. "But I feel personally responsible for your pie education, an' this place is the best."

He looked around for Benny, then rapped his knuckles on the table. "Waiter!" he called in a loud, obnoxious tone, and Benny looked up, rolling his eyes.

"You're lucky I like you," Benny said, coming over after setting a tray full of drinks down on another table. "Anyone else did that, they'd get spit in their hashbrowns."

"Yeah, yeah. You adore me."

"Like a broken-in shoe," Benny said. "So what's today's nail in the aortic coffin gonna be?"

Dean looked questioningly at Cas, who just shrugged helplessly. "A slice of coconut and a slice of pecan," Dean declared. "With vanilla ice cream. Obviously."

"Obviously," Benny agreed, stacking their plates on his arm.

"And a slice of lemon icebox, to go."

"You got it." Benny saluted them, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Are you actually trying to kill me?" Cas asked. "Is this revenge for the participles?"

"Nah. Not into necrophilia."

"Well, that's reassuring."

A few minutes later Benny reappeared, setting two warm plates on the table along with two clean forks, a takeout box and the check.

"Mmph," Dean acknowledged, mouth already full of pecan pie and ice cream. He nudged it over the table, and Cas took a small, tentative bite.

"Oh," he breathed, then dug out a bigger forkful. "Okay, I may have been missing out."

Dean nodded, licking an errant bit of crush off of his thumb. "No one should live their whole childhood without pie. S'a crime." He hesitated, then stuck his index and middle fingers into the coconut pie, swirling them around and then offering his hand across the table.

Cas blushed, but he opened his mouth obediently, letting Dean slip his fingers inside. He closed his eyes and sucked gently, savoring the faint salty tang of Dean's skin under the sweet coconut.

When he opened his eyes Dean was staring at him with visibly dilated eyes, lips slightly parted.

"Maybe we should just take these to go," he croaked. He slid his fingers out slowly, but Cas caught his wrist, holding his hand still as he tongued the last bits off Dean's fingertips, and Dean choked out a small moan.

As soon as Cas drew back and released his wrist, Dean unceremoniously dumped the remainder of the pies into the takeout box. He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a few bills and folding them under one of the plates.

"Thanks, Benny!" he yelled, picking up the box and grabbing Cas' wrist with his other hand.

"Adios, brother! Cas, you keep him outta trouble, y'hear?"

"Why am _I_ the one in trouble?" Dean complained.

"Because I've known you for a decade, jackass."

"Thank you, Benny," Cas called over his shoulder as Dean dragged him out the door, ducking through the lingering drizzle.

As soon as they were in the car Dean yanked Cas across the seats, pressing their lips together. Cas melted into the kiss, wrapping his hand in Dean's hair, and they explored each other's mouths, quiet moans punctuated by tiny gasps.

Dean had just begun slipping his hand up the back of Cas' shirt when Cas pushed him away, breathing unsteady.

"Drive," he commanded, scooting back to his side.

"Bossy," Dean growled, but he turned the key in the ignition.

"I don't think Benny would appreciate us getting arrested for public indecency outside his place of employment," Cas pointed out.

"Fine, fine." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, then pulled out of the parking lot.

"Thank you for dinner, by the way," Cas said after a few minutes. "I haven't really gone to many places since moving here. It was delicious."

"Yeah, well, maybe not the most romantic place for the our first date," Dean admitted. "But the food is damn good."

"More romantic than the school library," Cas teased, and Dean snorted. Cas hesitated. "Are we dating?" he blurted, then flushed. A few moments went by, and Cas backtracked. "I mean -- not that we do -- I just --"

"I ain't so good at the whole relationship thing," Dean said with a sigh, and Cas' stomach twisted. "I'm usually more a weekend fling type of dude. Maybe friends with benefits, 'til it gets complicated."

"I understand," Cas said softly, hoping the sour disappointment wasn't obvious in his voice.

"But, man, I gotta say," Dean continued, "Don't think I exactly see you just as a pal. Or my hot tutor I get to sleep with." He threw Cas a lopsided smile. "So maybe we're… not not dating? For now?"

Cas looked up, surprised, and then a slow smile blossomed on his face. "Okay," he agreed. "I can do not-not-dating-for-now." He paused again. "Are you my not-not-boyfriend-for-now, then?"

"Oh my God," Dean groaned, but he was laughing. "Fine, but _you're_ doing the introductions."

"Deal."

Dean finally pulled into his driveway, double-checking all the windows against the intermittent rain, and they scurried inside. He paused in the kitchen to deposit the pie box in the fridge and grab two glasses of water, and they pounded up the stairs to Dean's room.

Within seconds Dean had Cas pushed down on the bed, mouthing along his neck. Cas mewled, trying to pull him closer, but then Dean sat back.

"Hey," he said, peppering soft kisses along Cas' jaw. "Did I come off like a dick? When you asked me if we're dating?"

Cas blinked at him in surprise. "No," he said honestly. "Just honest. And I didn't mean it to sound like a demand that we _are_ dating. I just… wanted to know where we stand."

"Well," Dean drawled, propping himself up on his elbow, "I like you. Like kissin' you, talkin' to you, all of it. My freaky friends like you. Hell, I even like learnin' English when you're doin' the teaching. I do wanna take it slow, with the dating -- I ain't lyin' when I say I'm no good at relationships -- but I'm not tryin' to, y'know, play you or anythin'."

"I understand," Cas hastened to assure him. "I do. I'm not… good at relationships either. Or bad at relationships. Or -- or anything at relationships at all, really." He groaned, cheeks heating up again, and he buried his face in the pillow. "I'm sorry," he said, muffled. "My, uh… 'people skills' are… 'rusty'."

Dean grinned, kissing the back of Cas' neck. "Your people skills are okay with me."

Cas flipped over until they were lying side by side, kissing heatedly, shirts flung to the floor.

"So," Dean said, shifting until he was laid out under Cas on the bed, "do I get my gold star for my quiz grade?"

"Mm," Cas murmured. "You deserve a reward. What would you like?"

"What-whatever you wanna give me," Dean gasped as Cas' teeth found a nipple.

Cas sat back slightly, still mouthing at his torso. "You have to tell me. So beautiful, I could kiss your body all night…"

"No -- no arguments," Dean rasped, arching under Cas' lips. He reached out, scrabbling at Cas' jeans. Cas pulled at Dean's, until they were naked, hard and aching.

Cas dipped his head, kissing along the nascent muscles on Dean's abs, tracing his tongue over hipbones.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he breathed. "So gorgeous -- but so smart, and so kind." He kissed across Dean's belly. "What do you want from me?"

Dean arched up, groaning. "Would you," he said, shifting his hips up, then froze. "No -- no, it's --"

"I want to give anything you ask of me." Cas rubbed his cheek on Dean's cock, and Dean shuddered.

"I want -- if you'd -- your tongue," Dean said, turning his face to the pillow. "If you'd…"

"You want me to lick you?" Cas asked, and Dean buried his face.

"No, s'gross, you don't --" 

Cas shifted until Dean's legs were splayed wide, half over his shoulders.

"Can I," Cas said, lowering his head to mouth at Dean's balls. "Can I try to make you come on my tongue?"

"Oh, fuck," Dean breathed. "Yeah, Cas, baby -- do it -- oh _fuck_..."

He trailed off as a hot wet tongue circled his hole, pushing gently inside.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean choked, staring down in awe. "Pretty fuckin' uninhibited for a recent virgin, y'know that?"

Cas hummed, sending shivers zapping through Dean's body, then lifted his head slightly. "My inexperience doesn't mean I find sex shameful," he pointed out. "I've just never been very interested before."

"Christ, I'm -- fuckin' glad you're interested now -- oh my _fuck_ , Cas, Jesus," he babbled, as Cas gripped his thighs, spreading him wider, and then sank back down, reapplying his tongue enthusiastically.

Dean tangled his fingers in Cas' hair, tugging gently, and the moan that drew out made his cock jerk untouched, leaking onto his stomach. He reached his other hand down to fist himself, but Cas knocked it away, and he whimpered.

"You said you wanted to come on my tongue," Cas reminded him breathlessly. "Don't cheat."

" _Ca-as_ ," Dean whined, his free hand flexing desperately in the sheets.

Without stilling his tongue, Cas reached up and tangled their fingers together, pinning Dean's hand to the bed. Dean's hips jerked, his cock bouncing against Cas' temple, leaving a shiny smear of precome.

"Your fuckin' _tongue_ , baby…" Dean bent his legs further, all embarrassment forgotten, and Cas responded enthusiastically, spreading his cheeks until he could push his tongue deep inside.

"Oh _fuck_!" Dean yelped, his back arching off the bed, and Cas pulled off slightly, looking up with wide eyes.

"Was that --"

"Don't you _dare_ fuckin' stop." Dean clutched at Cas' shoulder, his head thrown back. His eyes were screwed shut in a rictus of pleasure, and the sight made Cas' cock throb between his legs.

"So beautiful," Cas murmured before dropping his head back down. He released Dean's hand so he could tease at his rim with his fingertip under his tongue.

Dean choked out a broken moan, trying to shove himself further onto Cas' tongue, but Cas grabbed his hip, holding him still.

"Wait, wait," Dean said in a ragged voice, and Cas drew back again, apologies on the tip of his tongue. Dean just drew in a shuddering breath, then flipped himself over, burying his face in the pillow and crawling onto his knees until his ass was in the air.

"Fuck," Cas breathed, running his hands in reverent circles over Dean's skin.

Dean threw a weak smirk over his shoulder. "Thought we weren't supposed to cheat?"

Cas stuck his tongue out, and Dean just raised a suggestive eyebrow, but before he could reply Cas was spreading his cheeks again with one hand with the other wrapped around Dean's waist, the new angle allowing him to work his tongue deep into Dean's hole. He rubbed around his rim with his thumb, teasing, occasionally slipping the slightest bit inside.

"Cas…" Dean groaned, muffled in the pillow. "Cas, 'm gonna -- gonna…"

Cas hummed again, letting it vibrate against Dean's body, and Dean went rigid, the muscles in his back flexing under taut, tan skin. He sucked in a breath, and then Cas felt hot wetness spill down onto his hand, dripping down Dean's body until a few drops gathered at Cas' mouth, still lapping gently until Dean collapsed in a boneless heap on the bed.

"Holy fuck," he slurred, still pressed into the pillow.

Cas sat back, rubbing circles in the small of Dean's back and wiping his other hand across his lips.

"That was… wow," he admitted.

"I'll say," Dean mumbled, eyes closed, and Cas snorted softly.

He reached down to stroke his own achingly hard cock, but Dean made a small, unhappy noise, scrabbling behind his back to catch at Cas' hand, then tugged Cas forward, until he was pressed against Dean's back with his cock snugly between his cheeks.

"Want to feel you," Dean said, rubbing himself languidly back against Cas.

"Dean -- I -- we don't --"

"Not in me," Dean interrupted without opening his eyes. "On me. Wanna feel it."

"Jesus, Dean," Cas growled. He draped himself over Dean's back, kissing at his spine and grinding his cock against Dean's ass, rubbing over his spit-slick hole. "Feel so good… So gorgeous, so hot, so -- Dean, I'm --"

Dean rolled his hips once, pushing back hard against Cas, and then Cas was coming onto the small of Dean's back, with a choked gasp melting into a low moan.

He lay there for a few moments, taking deep breaths with his mouth still pressed against the sweat-sticky skin of Dean's back, then toppled over onto his back. Dean turned over onto his side with a groan, reaching out throw an arm around Cas' chest. Drying come pooled around them and between them, but they ignored it, smiling, sated and happy.

"You have freckles on your ass, you know," Cas finally mumbled sleepily. He reached down, sliding his fingers over the silky skin as if he could feel them. "Lots of them. Want to count them. Could count your freckles all day."

Dean snorted. He kissed Cas' ear, then sang softly in a terrible Eastern European accent: " _I could sit and count all day… sometimes I get carried awa-ay…_ "

Cas looked at him as though he'd grown a second head, and Dean sighed. "Not even Sesame Street, Cas?" Cas shrugged helplessly, and Dean scrambled up, throwing his leg over Cas to straddle his waist.

"Oh, gross, Dean, we're -- _mmph_." He shut up as Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, drawing in a dramatic breath.

" _I count slowly, slowly, slowly getting faster_ ," he sang in a surprisingly resonant voice. " _Once I've started counting it's really hard to stop_." Cas bucked his hips, laughter crinkling at his eyes, but Dean clamped his knees together hard. " _Faster, faster, it is so exciting!_ " he continued, finally dropping his hand to dig his fingertips into Cas' ribs. " _I could count forever, count until I drop!_ "

Finally Cas threw him off, both boys dissolving into giggles.

"You are _insane_ ," Cas finally said, gasping for breath.

"Maybe," Dean agreed, turning to face him with a bright grin. "But you like me anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> fyi the ending is infinitely more funny if you've watched [the count uncensored](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-Wd-Q3F8KM). but the video eternally hilarious anyway. or maybe I'm just a child.
> 
> come find me on [tumblr](reluctant.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/relucanting). I'm nice.


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